


Sur le fond de mes nuits...

by ScarletPrincess



Series: Not my girls [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Art Inspired, Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M, I guess it's a bit dark, Nightmares, but Zev is the best, not my OC, self doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 20:52:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12176379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletPrincess/pseuds/ScarletPrincess
Summary: It always started with the dreams.The emptiness, the numbing silence… just a  black hole of nothing. She had liked it at first: to feel nothing, no pain or regret; just the void, calm and serene. But she knew better now, she knew what came after the silence, and she dreaded it.





	Sur le fond de mes nuits...

**Author's Note:**

> Quick drabble inspired by [@louminx](http://louminx.tumblr.com/) [wonderful piece](http://louminx.tumblr.com/post/165631691966/zevran-indess-dragon-age-origins-youre).
> 
> Title from Baudelaire's "Le gouffre"

It always started with the dreams.  
The emptiness, the numbing silence… just a  black hole of nothing. She had liked it at first: to feel nothing, no pain or regret; just the void, calm and serene. But she knew better now, she knew what came after the silence, and she dreaded it.

It was always the same. He’d call for her,  _Indess, Indess_ … an aria of pain and despair sung only for her. Her own name used as a weapon, sharp as a dagger that pierced through her skin, making her heart shed tears of blood.   
And then she’d see him… Nelaros.

He’d walk towards her with assured steps, tall and proud, still chanting her name softly —   _Indess, Indess_ — the red flower of blood blooming at his chest was the only reminder of his demise. Then, when he’d be close enough, so close that she could smell the stench on death in his breath, he’d raise a bloody hand to her face, his cold fingers brushing her lower lips… And she’d wake up in screams, her sleeping tunic soaked in sweat that reeked of fear and guilt.

Nelaros was dead.  
He had died  _for_  her,  _because_ of her; fighting for a betrothed he barely knew. He was the true hero not her, and every night her mind would remind Indess of her weakness, of how scared and helpless she had been.

She was a fraud. She wasn’t special or better than the Alienage. She wasn’t made for greater things like Adaia had told her. She was still the scared little Indy. How could she save Ferelden and stop the blight when she had been incapable to save just one person. She was weak. And every night, alone in her tent, she was reminded of that.

But tonight was different.  
Tonight she wasn’t alone, Zevran was by her side.   
He had rushed in her tent at the first sign of distress. How she had come to rely so much on the man who once tried to kill her she couldn’t say. But she trusted him, sometimes more than she trusted herself.

He didn’t ask anything, he never did, but somehow he always knew how she felt. So he simply kneeled in front of her, his brown eyes focused on hers, searching for her soul behind the veil of sorrow, and took her chin in his hand. His soft breath caressed her lips when he spoke:

“You are so strong  _Ma vhenan_. So much stronger than you know.”


End file.
